Right Under Your Nose
by Werewolves-Oh-My
Summary: How can House protect his youngest duckling, when the duckling doesn’t even know he’s in danger? House/Chase
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own house, never have, never will_

_Warnings: Abuse, homosexual relationships _

_Pairings: House/Chase_

* * *

"He's back." House growled as he entered Wilson's office.

The oncologist sat casually at his desk nestling a cup of coffee, a frown forming on his face as he tried to understand House's statement. "Excuse me?"

"Him. It. Pratchett." House grunted, bouncing his cane against the wooden floor loudly in frustration. He fell into one of the large, comfortable 'cancer chairs', designed to comfort those who had just received bad news. _I know this much at least, my ass is as comfortable as it's going to be in this hospital. _House mused, leaning forward to rest on his knees so he could glare at the floor.

"Pratchett? As in, the man who followed Stacy's brother for 2 years?" Wilson asked, standing up from his chair to lean on the desk worriedly.

"No, Terry Pratchett." House replied sarcastically, cane smashing rhythmically against the wooden floor, bouncing into his hand.

"Right." Wilson nodded, clasping his hands together in front of him. "In what sense is he 'back'?"

"His car's parked out front." House replied, dragging one hand through his crew cut hair. He stood up, pacing across the room to the window. Wilson walked to his side, peering over to see the old, black, empty sedan parked across the street. "He's still got his medical license, he might be in the hospital somewhere."

"Well." Wilson mused, leaning back contemplatively. "Neither you nor I are exactly in his demographic anymore..."

"No, but after last time, he'll be after my blood, or as close to it as he can get." House reminded the oncologist, grabbing a piece of paper from the sideboard and crumpling it into a tiny ball. House opened the window slightly, and Wilson leant forward, watching as House threw the tiny ball down a nurse's top. House dropped down below the windowsill, leaving Wilson left staring at the annoyed woman.

"House, try and take this seriously." Wilson stated, rolling his eyes as he nodded an apology to the disgruntled nurse. "Who do you think he'll be after?"

House looked at Wilson for a moment, regarding him as one would regard an imbecile. "What men do we know that are Blond, athletic, and young with an accent?" House stated, rolling his eyes at his counterpart's slowness.

"You think he'll be after -"

"Chase." House finished, leaning heavily against his cane. "There's no one else that fits the criteria. The question is, how do I prevent that bastard from getting at Chase?"

"Just do what you'd always do. Make excuses to keep him within your sight. Remember though, act like as much as an ass as possible, or he'll know something's up." Wilson rationalised, returning to his desk calmly. "He's down in the conference rooms at the moment, he's running a presentation." The oncologist started, watching House head for the door rapidly and following quickly. "I'm sure you can sit in, there's bound to be some - hey! Where are you going? The conference rooms are the other way."

"I know that, duuh. I'm not going to the conference room." House said sarcastically, continuing to walk away. "I'm off to see Cuddy!"

* * *

"G'day, mate!" Robert Chase winced as the brash tones of his impatient boss broke through the conference room. Straightening his tie nervously, he turned to face House, eyebrows raised slightly. "When the Wilson said you were performing a demonstration on the lower levels, I had hoped he was speaking metaphorically. Might have made this slightly more interesting." He swung into the final seat on the table casually, propping his worn cane against the edge of the oak surface as a file rested in his clasped hands. "So, what are we 'demonstrating' today? The art of mismatched dressing?"

"The difference between Petit Mal seizures and ADHD." The australian replied calmly, piling papers in an orderly fashion, glancing up at House regularly.

"How riveting." House snipped, balancing his legs on another chair. "No Dame Edna impersonation? Or perhaps Skippy the kangaroo is more your forte?"

"I might manage Shane Warne, if you're lucky." The Australian quipped, glancing quickly again at his employer as he checked everything was in place. "He's a cricketer." Chase supplied, noting House's bemused look.

"I know that, Sheila. I just don't see why you'd ever want to impersonate someone who spends their days playing a cheap impersonation of baseball." House grinned, baiting his youngest duckling.

"I'm not going to get into a sports argument right now, House." Chase replied, scrunching his nose amusedly in reply to House's disgruntled look. "I need to get ready for this presentation." Chase stated, frown forming as House stood abruptly, walking over to the head of the table to pick the papers off the presentation desk with a determined glare. "Hey!"

"I can't have you messing round down here, wombat. We have a case."

"What?" Chase sighed, dragging a hair through his blond locks. "I'm sure Foreman and Cameron can handle it for now." Chase reasoned, leaning on the surface exasperatedly.

"Never know when you might need a cardiologist." House stated, throwing the patient's chart in the air for his employee to catch. Chase grabbed the chart deftly, opening it up to read as his frown deepened.

"The main problem's in his brain, and, judging by the amount of illnesses he's had in the last 6 months, is most likely autoimmune." Chase diagnosed, snapping the file shut and returning it to House. "You have an immunologist and a neurologist at your disposal already, I'll just be a dead weight."

"What are the chances of that, eh?" House grinned, glancing over the folder for himself with a nod. "Well, you've got nothing better to do than come upstairs anyway. Already called Cuddy and cancelled this little liaison." House retorted, picking up his cane and grinning at his employee. "I have access to the one that disagrees with me and the one that brings up all ethical issues. It wouldn't be a true diagnosis if my personal cheerleader wasn't there to back me up! Hop to it, wombat, we wouldn't want Cameron and Foreman to get bored waiting for me to diagnose the little blighter, would we?"

"You cancelled my presentation?" Chase asked incredulously, eyebrows virtually touching his hairline as he picked up the remaining printouts, marching out the room to catch up with the limping man.

"You matched a blue shirt with that tie?" House replied with the same inclinations, cane tapping harshly against the wooden floor.

"This is insanity, House! You can't just cancel my meetings as and when you feel like it." Chase exclaimed, stomping in front of his boss to block the path to the elevator.

"I think you'll find, Dr Chase, that as your boss I can do whatever I like with regards to your schedule." House stated, using his long cane to click the elevator button over the Australian's shoulder. "And you know the rules, if I've got a case I need all three of my diagnostic team on hand."

"Then why did you let Foreman take leave last week to help in that drug trial?" Chase asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air in frustration as House walked round him into the opening elevator.

"Because if I hadn't, Foreman might have set his gang of hoodlums on me. You know how those black men are with their guns." House replied sarcastically, pressing the button for floor 5 with panache. "And come on, Chase, have some compassion! That experience improved Foreman's future job prospects."

"Oh, and this presentation couldn't have improved mine?" Chase huffed, trying to move into the elevator until the end of House's cane came up against his chest, preventing him from moving forward.

"Who said you needed to look for a new job?" House grinned, clicking the close door button and pulling his cane into the elevator. "You've got two good legs, you can use the stairs, boyo."

Hands on hips, Chase spun, exhaling in agitation. _Lord, I work for a dick._

_

* * *

_

"Ducklings!" House exclaimed as he limped into the room, Chase slightly behind him. Taking up his usual place in front of the white board whilst Chase fell into his seat, the diagnostician pointed at his other two doctors. "Foreman, Cameron, explain to Chase what we've found so far."

"Amnesia, elevated heart rate, compromised immune system, vomiting -" Foreman reeled off before he was cut off by House.

"Woah, slow down there 50 cent, give the cripple a little writing time!" House exclaimed, scribbling away at the whiteboard as Foreman slowly repeated the symptoms. "Okay, so what can we deduce about a puker who can't remember his own name?"

"Brain tumour?" Chase suggested.

"MRI was clean." replied, handing over the test results. "In fact, apart from some minor swelling, the brain looked normal. The problem didn't start in the brain, it just ended up there."

"Alcoholism?" Chase tried again.

"Why don't you just ask if its influenza while you're here? He got sent to us because he didn't have any of the usual suspects, duuh!" House stated loudly, limping round the room in boredom.

"Tox screen came back negative for all common drugs, including alcohol." Cameron replied, ignoring House completely. "Given the compromised immune system, I think he may have more than one illness or infection; all of which would have different symptoms and treatments."

"Chances of him having more than one illness that doesn't appear in the routine blood tests already performed are minimal at best, even given the state of his immune system." Chase stated, thinking hard. "There's got to be a simpler answer."

"I assume "minimal at best" is your stiff upper lip British way of saying "no chance in hell."" House quipped, leaning heavily against his cane.

"I'm australian." Chase frowned.

"You put the queen on your money; you're british. And wrong. Multiple illnesses could have compromised the results of the test, it could just be two simple problems." House retorted, taking the file off Cameron as Chase muttered angrily about 'the usual suspects'. "Its late, go home. The guy will still be breathing in the morning." The three stood up swiftly, heading for the door. "Woah, Skippy. Where do you think you're going?"

Chase froze, looking at his employer in surprise. The other occupants in the room froze also, wondering what was going on. "Home, like you just said we could." Chase said slowly, resuming movement at a low pace.

"No, I said Cameron and Foreman could go home. What, did you think I'd just leave this poor puking amnesiac on his lonesome?" House stated, pulling a sad face."You're going to give him a wide range antibiotic to see if you can't kill any infections off."

"You're letting them go but not me? Chase exclaimed, hands slamming on the table in annoyance. "You said you needed all three of us to do this differential. Surely if you only needed one of us, you could have left me to do that damned presentation!"

"One rule doesn't fit all, blondie, and I needed your cute ass to help me out tonight. You'll be staying, and you'll enjoy it, too." House winked. "See how many hookers we can sneak under Cuddy's nose."

"Tough break, man." Foreman stated, clasping Chase's shoulder as he walked past the annoyed Australian.

"I don't mind staying if you like?" Cameron asked, hands tucked deeply in her pockets.

"Don't worry about it, Cameron, I can deal with House for one night." Chase smiled tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "I think." Cameron smiled sympathetically, taking her leave. Chase turned to face his boss exasperatedly, heart dropping at the dangerous grin on House's face.

"So, Skippy, its just you and I tonight." The cripple grinned, popping 3 vicodin into his mouth. "We're going to have so much fun!"

_Great.

* * *

_

_**Hello! This is my first House M.D fanfic, I hope you enjoy it! I love the TV show, so I hope I do the character's justice. I will be continuing my Two Steps Forward story (its Harry Potter RLSB loveliness) but it wasn't getting great reviews, so I wanted to have a go with something fresh to get my mojo back. **_

_**Read&Review my lovelies! Oh, and if you are willing and able to Beta this story, PM me as I know I have horrible grammatical habits.**_

_**(Thanks to quack675 for pointing out that the term Wombat is one of those phenomenons that doesn't appear in the TV series, all references to Chase as such have been removed! Sometimes the line between TV and Fan fiction gets a little blurred - I'd already had to double check that house had referred to the team as his ducklings in the TV show!)  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

"Evening Mr Smith." Chase smiled as he entered the patient's room, bag of antibiotics resting in one hand and a chart clasped firmly in the other. "My name is Doctor Chase. I'm just going to put this into your IV and then I'm going to try taking a medical history."

A forty year old man lay in the bed, hands shaking slightly, sweat building on his brow. Chase didn't need his years of medical school to see the man was really ill, and once again doubted whether this could be caused by simple infections.

"I'm afraid you won't have much luck with that." The patient frowned, pointing at his head. "My stupid mind will barely even remember my own name, yet alone the names of any illnesses within the family tree."

"Fair enough." Chase stated, smiling at his patient in what he hoped was a reassuring manner as he fitted the bag. "I need to do some routine examinations, but after that I'll leave you to sleep."

"Thank you, Doctor." The patient smiled, with the grin not quite reaching his eyes. Chase began the checks in silence, before Mr Smith began speaking once more. "What is such a nice boy like yourself doing here so late? I know its a weeknight, but I would have thought you'd be the type to have a date on such a gorgeous wednesday night like this, instead of spending it with us sickos."

"My boss asked me to help out, he was a little short staffed." Chase stated, a frown forming on his face as he examined the patient's red, inflamed eyes. He scribbled down this new symptom before moving onto the patient's hand, noting how stiff and cold the long fingers felt with a deepening frown.

"Everything alright?" The patient asked quietly, and Chase glanced up quickly with a smile.

"Everything should be fine. The antibiotics should start helping pretty quickly, if you're in any distress you just need to hit the emergency button and someone will be right over. A doctor will be along to check on you in a few hours."

"Thank you, Dr Chase." The patient said, smiling as Chase jogged out of the room.

* * *

"I've put Mr Smith on the antibiotics, if it's a common infection it should be cleared by the morning." Chase stated as he entered the diagnostic room, placing two paper cups of coffee on the glass table.

"Really? Fantastic work. Outstanding. And all this time I thought you were just a pretty face. I'd be surprised if you don't get the nod for doctor of the year for that stellar performance." House mocked, rolling the whiteboard pen between his fingers.

"He's now also presenting with lividity of the extremities and tenderness around the eye area. I don't think this is a common infection, and what's more I think you know that this isn't a common infection." Chase stated, hands resting firmly in his coat pockets as he glared at his boss.

"It could be a combination of-"

"No. Its not going to be a combination of infections! None of the common infections explain his symptoms, and even if he does have two or more infections, that would suggest a compromised immune system which would need treatment." Chase huffed, grabbing the marker pen from House's hand and scribbling the new symptoms on the whiteboard. "If you ignore the amnesia and compromised immune system, we could be looking at some sort of inorganic poisoning, maybe even vitamin D toxicity with a previous illness."

"Yes, feel free to exclude any symptom if it makes your job easier. Any of those other options will require more tests. Its been a long night for Mr Smith, so why don't you just come and do some paperwork and let the poor man sleep." House smirked as Chase sat down angrily.

"What on earth has you so distracted that you can't even bring yourself to solve a mystery?" Chase mused, elbows resting on the glass table. "I've never known you to accept the simple answer when it could be something rare, tropical or interesting." House made a non-committal noise, spurring Chase on further.

"Right." Chase huffed quietly, reaching for the crossword section of the paper as he glanced at his boss. "I almost understand why you've forced me to stay the night; you knew it would piss me off and there's nothing you enjoy more than annoying one of your team to high heavens. What I don't get is why you're still here as well. If you just wanted me to stay, you could have forced the nurses to report on me." Chase deduced, curling the paper into a baton and pointing it at House. "Yet here you are, at gone three in the morning, sat in your office with me when you could be tucked up nice and tight in your oversized, empty bed in peace. Something's up."

"You think I could get the nurses to taddle on you?" House scoffed, reaching for one of the coffee cups. "They're all too entranced by your ass-ets to ever even dream of telling you in."

"Nice ass joke."

"Thanks, its a classic." House replied sarcastically, waving off the faux compliment.

"Nevertheless, you didn't have to stay. Wilson's still in the hospital, you could have got him to do your dirty work for you. What was so important that you had to stay at the hospital after 6pm?" Chase asked, standing up slowly and walking slowly towards House.

"I wanted to see the night staff's kinky outfits, Cameron tells me they are top notch." House retorted. "And Wilson's not immune to the powers of your ass, either, or he'd be in my place."

"I will find out what's going on, you know." Chase stated, leaning over the table to look House directly in the eye, neither man flinching as House leant forward also, until scant inches lay between them. "Don't think that I won't."

"I'm terrified, truly." House mocked, popping vicodin in his mouth like candy as the pair held eye contact. Chase's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the relaxed figure of his boss for a second more before leaning back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I'm gonna go and do some clinic hours." Chase stated, stalking out of the room rapidly. House stayed for a few more moments, staring at the whiteboard contemplatively, before he too stood to leave, heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

"House, what on earth are you doing down here?" Wilson frowned as he finally located House in the cctv room, following his friend's eye line until he saw the watched monitor. "My God, are you spying on Chase?"

"Shh, this is where he tells her he's with another woman." House stated, chucking popcorn into his mouth as he examined the small monitor, upon which Chase was examining a patient. "God, I love bad Australian soaps."

"House! You're not only intruding on his privacy, but his patients'." Wilson condemned, adopting his role as House's conscience as naturally as usual. "What would happen if he was to do an examination that required the patient exposing themselves?"

"What, like the breast exam he did twenty minutes ago?" House grinned, offering Wilson some popcorn as the tired oncologist fell into one of the empty chairs. "I was just ensuring he was using the right technique. I'd give him a B+, though his patient was more a D student, if you know what I mean." House winked, grinning at his disbelieving friend.

"You're an ass." Wilson sighed, reaching over for a handful of popcorn. "What do you think is wrong with this patient, oh all knowing one."

"Well, she can't stand up quickly, signalling low blood pressure. Her skin has a slight blue tinge, she keeps coughing, and judging by the way she winces whenever Chase speaks, she either has a headache or an aversion to the Australian accent. Add to that the shakes and an abnormal heart rate, I would say Pneumonia." House grinned, taking another handful of the popcorn.

"You think you can diagnose pneumonia without ever hearing the patient speak or breathe." Wilson laughed, looking more intensely at the screen.

"I think a dog could probably diagnose that patient." House smirked, tapping the screen with his cane. "As demonstrated by my little lapdog here. Its only a mild case, so 200mg doxycycline should clear that up in a week." Sure enough, Wilson watched with raised eyebrows as Chase walked over to the oral antibiotics cabinet, picking up the doxycycline box.

"You've trained him well." Wilson rolled his eyes sarcastically, before frowning at his friend. "So are you intending on keeping him locked in the hospital until you find and kill Pratchett?"

"No, I'm going to keep Chase locked in the hospital until Chase finds and kills me." House grinned at Wilson, who's eyes didn't leave the screen.

"Productive." Wilson nodded, eyebrows sky high. "Looks like your entertainment is getting away." House cursed under his breath, turning to the screen as they watched Chase follow his patient out. Chase reappeared moments later on one of the other monitors, before crossing over again, and again and again until he ended up outside Cuddy's office. "And here is where we find out just how loyal Robert Chase is." Wilson smiled, glancing at House. "I'm so sorry, Dr Cuddy, if only Dr House had let me go to sleep, I would have been able to complete my clinic hours." Wilson stated in a bad Australian accent.

"Chase loves me. And isn't Turkish."

"Cameron loves you. Chase loves his job."

"Fine." House sighed, climbing out of his chair. "I'll go and talk to them, make sure my ass isn't on the line for anything that goes wrong today."

"I think it would be best if you stayed here." Wilson said, resting his hands on his knees. "I'll go and talk to the two of them. After all they're hardly your biggest fans at the moment, are they?"

"You'll have to beat me to them." House grinned, throwing the popcorn bag in the trash and straightening his posture.

"You think I can't beat a cripple?" Wilson laughed, standing swiftly in time for House's cane to connect roughly with his shin bone. A groan of pain left his lips as he fell to his knees with a wince.

"Now we're on even footing." House grinned down as he walked past his doubled over friend, hobbling rapidly towards the elevator.

* * *

"Dr Cuddy! Dr Chase, what are you doing in here?" Wilson smiled as he wheezed breathlessly, victory written across his face as he rested firmly against the closed office door. He heard House curse in the corridor, and his grin widened slightly. Morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, signalling the start of another long day at PPTH.

"I-I just came down to rearrange my presentation on ADHD and petit mal seizures." Chase stuttered, looking at Wilson questioningly before turning back to Cuddy. "So Monday morning at 10am is fine?"

"Yes Dr Chase, I will make sure I put it up on the staff calendar." Cuddy replied, never looking away from the huffing oncologist. "If that's everything, Dr Chase, I will see you monday morning."

"Thank you, Dr Cuddy." Chase smiled, walking out of the office, throwing Wilson a confused glance on his way out.

"What does House want?" Cuddy stated exasperatedly, hand resting wearily on her temple. "And what was he thinking, making Chase work triple shifts? I do not want him drawing my doctors to the brink of exhaustion!"

"Have you sent Chase home?" Wilson replied, brow creasing as he turned to the door once more, ready to follow the Australian.

"Of course not, if House wants him here then House should have him here." Cuddy sighed. "Taking away House's toys is never a good idea."

"Right as always, Lisa." Wilson smiled, dragging a hand through his hair tiredly. "If its any consolation, House does have a genuine reason for torturing Chase this time."

"I know." Cuddy replied, a light frown on her face. "And that's what scares me."

* * *

**Hi! Thank you to the 7 people who reviewed Chapter 1, you all rock! Apologies if I've made any medical mistakes, I've tried to stick to diseases that I know a bit about, but my knowledge is far from conclusive and I know there's bound to be some errors.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, Sleeping Beauty!" House yelled, slamming his cane down as Chase shot up in shock. "Naptime's over, sunshine. Its 9am, time to get back to work." With a flick of the light switch and a few quick pokes of the cane upon the ruffled doctor, House left, cane clicking down the corridor.

The door shut behind the retreating diagnostician with a crack, making the Australian wince at the noise and the harsh lighting. Dragging a hand over his exhausted face, he realised it was Friday morning, meaning he hadn't been to his home in over 48 hours, and by the looks of things, would have to work at least another 12 before there was any chance of leaving. Inhaling deeply, he stood up, pushing his feet forcefully into his shoes before trudging towards the diagnostics department, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

"You can't keep doing this." Foreman stated as he watched House enter the diagnostics room, several cups of espresso balanced carefully in his free hand. "More importantly, you can't keep forcing Chase to do this. These all nighters aren't healthy. If you or Chase make a fatal mistake during a procedure after so little sleep, you'll be held responsible."

"I know, dumb ass." House snarled, unstacking the cups of espresso in a straight line along the edge of the table. "But I leave the procedures to my minions, and for today our youngest duckling shall be considered capable of office work only."

"How long are you intending on forcing Chase to keep working nights?" Cameron asked, frowning as she spotted the Australian heading down the corridor, patient's file in hand. "He looks exhausted."

"Until I get bored." House grinned, lowering himself into his chair as he took the lids off the small espresso cups, topping each cup up with a splash of bottled water. Starting at the left end, he picked up the first cup, downing it like a shot before moving on to the second, third and fourth espressos rapidly. "Yeow! That is one hell of a kick." House stated with a manic grin, eyes boring holes into Foremans', before flicking briefly to the Australian entering the door. "Nice for you to join us, finally." House said with a smirk, earning him a glare from the shattered intensivist.

"Hey, Chase." Cameron smiled, pushing out a chair for her colleague with her foot as she ignored her boss. "You don't look too hot. Would you like me to get you some coffee? Or maybe a bagel, or-"

"Cameron." Chase interrupted, sliding into his seat. "I am fine, thanks. Just a little sleepy." Sending a poignant glance to House, who shrugged nonchalantly, Chase slid the file along to Foreman, who immediately picked up the file, frowning at what he found inside.

"The illness is fluctuating, getting steadily worse before improving with seemingly no reason. Rules out degenerative diseases and most infections." Foreman deduced, brow lowering as he stared at the reports.

"Most, but not all." Cameron corrected, glancing over the file herself. "Broad spec antibiotics didn't work, that rules out about 100 possible infections. Of the ones left, there's about 10 that might be cyclical."

"Well? What are you waiting for, go get some blood and test for those ten!" House exclaimed, waving his hand in Cameron's direction. Frown deepening, Cameron stood, leaving the room to do as he asked. "Now we need one of you to test for autoimmune problems... Oh, blast, Cameron's the immunologist, isn't she? Oh well, Foreman, you'll have to do. Feel free to scan his head again, as well, so you're not totally out of your element."

"And me?" Chase sighed, watching House leave the room for a moment, returning with a massive pile of papers.

"You, my little Australian friend, get to do my paperwork!" House smirked enthusiastically, depositing the papers in front of his employee. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Have fun!"

_

* * *

_

Wilson entered his office haphazardly, coming to a halt with a frown as he spotted a tall figure leaning upon the windowsill, staring intently onto the street. "Some people would find your obsession with my room unhealthy, House. It might appear that you actually enjoy my company."

"Don't flatter yourself." House retorted, sipping his coffee whilst glancing through the blinds. "Your room has the best view of that damned car." Wilson sighed, walking over to where his friend rested and glancing out the window, noting the car placed in the exact same position as it had been 2 days previous. Frowning, Wilson leaned against the sill, facing his friend.

"Did you ever consider that maybe Pratchett sold the car to someone else? Its been five years, you can't just assume that its his." Wilson questioned, knowing House probably wouldn't buy that.

"You're suggesting that someone bought a car from a man based in New York, then moved to Princeton and happened to fall ill within the tiny catchment zone that would require them going to PPTH, where I, the seller's mortal enemy, happen to work, instead of Princeton General?" House snarled, scoffing lightly.

"Mortal enemy?" Wilson chuckled, taking a short sip from his coffee mug. "You've been watching too much General Hospital, the melodrama's affecting you."

"Hmm." House frowned, turning from the window and throwing himself on Wilson's couch in annoyance. "Do you remember what a state Stacy's brother was in when I found him being attacked by Pratchett?"

Wilson frowned also, dragging a hand through his hair. "Calvin was a mess, I suppose."

"But not as broken as Pratchett wanted him to be." House replied. "That's why he was so angry with me, not because I put him in jail, but because I didn't let him finish what he started." House stated. "He said that, as a friend, I should have given him an extra 10 minutes."

"So now you think he's going to be after someone close to you, such as Chase, and ruin them as intensively as he intended to ruin Calvin, and you're worried." Wilson deduced, eyebrows raised.

"Remember Calvin in the weeks and months after the attack?" House asked.

Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't work..." He tailed off, looking at House questioningly.

"Couldn't work." House reiterated, twirling his cane in his hand. "I can't have him breaking Chase in the same way, I need him to be kept in working condition."

"Are you sure you're not doing this because you care about Chase?" Wilson questioned, corners of his lips raising slightly.

"I care about Chase's surgical hands and pretty hair." House rephrased, biting his lip slightly. "The surgical hands are useful for the little niggly operations, and the pretty hair is for the aesthetics of my team; the prettier the doctor, the more likely he can flirt his way to the truth with some patients." House deduced, placing his hands on his knees to stand up slowly. "I do not care about Chase."

"Sure." Wilson grinned, tilting his head disbelievingly. "Is there anything you'd like me to do?" Wilson questioned, standing up to walk House to the door.

"Phone security, tell them to keep an eye out for Pratchett." House stated, leaning against the door frame. "Tall forty year old brunet, missing a finger, with a tattoo of Oklahoma on his arm."

"Oklahoma?"

"He lost a bet." _With me. _House added in his head silently, nodding at Wilson. "See you Monday."

"Bye, House."

_

* * *

_

Chase sat in House's office, impersonating his bosses' signature on the thousandth sheet of paper when the devil himself walked in, grinning as he threw a bottle of caffeine tablets at his shattered employee. Catching them jumpily, Chase popped the lid off, taking several before placing his head on the table for a moment. The sun had started to set, and Foreman had just left to check their stable patient for the last time of the day,

"Would you prefer that I wrote that you spoke to Coma guy before he killed himself, or feign ignorance to the entire situation?" Chase asked, lifting his head off the page and glaring at his boss before looking down, beginning to scribble details on the form.

"Blame Wilson." House grinned, perching on the desk. Chase glanced up, ready to make a sarcastic remark, but was shocked by the proximity of House, who was balanced mere inches from his face.

"But that would get Wilson in trouble..." Chase stated dimly, trying not to recoil from the face in front of him as he tried to understand what was going on.

"Duhhh." House grinned, eyes boring into Chases'. He stayed stationary for another moment, amused by the fact that Chase wasn't shrinking away. His grin froze for a second as he noticed a lock of Chase's hair fall forward and he stared at the tendril, reaching forward to tuck it behind his fellow's ear. Chase's brow lowered, and House leaned back, knocking a pile of papers purposefully off the desk as he shifted. "Oops." He grinned, walking towards the door. "No hometime for you until you sort out that mess, Wombat boy."

Chase sighed, blinking a few times, before he glanced at the floor, rolling his eyes as he bent over to pick up the scattered papers, confused and amused in equal measures.

_

* * *

_

"Where do you think you're going?" House asked when he returned an hour later, papers stacked neatly upon the desk as Chase wrapped himself up to face the cold outdoors.

"Home." Chase smiled wearily, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he looked out the window to the snow covered grounds. "If I don't leave soon, it will be too dark to drive home safely, and there's no way in hell I'm staying this weekend, House."

House cursed under his breath, having hoped that the neatly piled paperwork would have taken long enough for the sun to fully set, leaving Chase trapped for another night. "Tough luck, sunshine. You've got my clinic duty to see to yet."

"No." Chase stated, wrapping his scarf round his neck tightly.

"What?" House's eyebrows jolted up, unused to the word coming out of the ass-kisser's mouth. Hobbling up to where the australian stood, he waited for an answer impatiently.

"No. I'm going home, you can do your own damn clinic hours." Chase stated, pulling his gloves on.

"Did Cameron finally manage to schedule that surgery to give you a backbone?" House snarled, glaring at the Australian and shortening the foot between them, standing toe to toe.

Chase looked up, finishing pulling on his second glove, and glared at his boss tiredly. House's mouth dried as he looked at Chase, stepping forward further so that his feet rested either side of Chase's. The fury emanating between the two was palpable, until the tension built to the stage where the Australian had to do _something._

Chase lent forward rapidly, shortening the distance between the pair to a hair's width. Breathing heavily, he froze, staring at House for a second before pressing their lips together for the briefest of moments. Chase pulled back almost immediately, resting his hands on his forehead anxiously.

"Oh my god. Oh, God. That, that is how much I need sleep right now." He flustered, grabbing everything off his desk as House stayed bolted to the spot, frozen by the unexpected events. "I'm sorry, I'll see you Monday, House."

House's eyes were wide open in shock, surprised by the behaviour of his fellow. Turning towards the door, he turned right, away from the exit, in hopes that an hour or two yelling at idiots in the clinic would soothe is confused mind.

_

* * *

_

House pulled his leather jacket up around his neck tightly, squinting as he walked out of the Clinic Doors to find his bike. Desperate to get some alcohol in his system, the distracted doctor drove out of the hospital towards the nearest bar, turning right at the exit to the car park instead of his usual left.

Had he left through the main doors, he might have noticed Chase's car sat stationary and empty in his usual space, snow resting lightly on the bonnet. Or perhaps if he had turned left he would have noticed the lack of a black car resting against the pavement outside the hospital. However, confused and distracted by the earlier events of the day, vision obscured by the heavy snow, House left, oblivious to the signs that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

* * *

**R&R Please; Constructive Criticism is welcome, especially as this is my first House story :)**


	4. Chapter 4

"Now, I know someone's missing." House stated as he hobbled into the conference room Monday morning, glancing between the room's two other occupants. "Let me see. I have one female attending and one black attending. That means the blond one's missing." Cameron and Foreman sat motionless, Foreman's brow skyrocketing at House's sarcasm.

"His presentation was rescheduled for this morning. He'll be back by this afternoon." Cameron answered, walking over to House and handing over the patient's file. "And don't try and interrupt - Cuddy's put security guards all over the conference floor, all told to remove you from the area should you be seen."

"She's got the SS squad ready to KO me should I go where she doesn't approve?" House frowned, internally impressed by the perseverance and preparation of the Hospital Administrator. "How terribly communist of her."

"The SS were right wing, not left." Cameron stated, earning her eye rolls from the room's other occupants as House opened the file, tilting it left and right in mock contemplation.

"We have a patient to look after. You can focus on the repressing nature of the Hospital Admin later, House." Foreman frowned, tipping his head towards the file. "What happened over the weekend?"

"Nothing worth putting on the patient's report sheet, apparently." House shrugged, throwing the file across to Foreman. "Now, which one of you is going to go lasso me an Australian?"

"They didn't write down anything! Damn nurses, they haven't even written down which drugs they gave him." Foreman frowned, glaring into the corridor angrily as he ignored House's lasso gestures. "For all we know they've given him something that might worsen the symptoms, and as per usual we'll get the blame."

"They would have just kept him on the same meds we had him on last week. They weren't making him any worse, and would have taken 2 or 3 days to work anyway." Cameron shrugged, crossing her arms impatiently. "Why did we even take this case? He's not in any immediate danger of dying, he's not a hospital benefactor, and its probably not even that complex of an illness."

"Because, Cameron, no one else could solve it. And if there's something strange in the human body, who you gonna call?" House started, looking at Cameron expectantly. When she sat silent, he squealed "Greg Ho-use!" in a feminine tone, rolling his eyes at Cameron in annoyance. "I asked Cuddy to give us a relatively straightforward case - solving all of the complex ones has made you all complacent. Hell, even with this simple case you couldn't come up with a coherent answer between the three of you! You need to go back to basics occasionally."

"We didn't sign up for an internship with you to solve open and shut cases." Foreman frowned, throwing the file onto the table in annoyance.

"What did you sign up for, then? My dashing charm and bedside manner?" House mocked, stalking across the room to his whiteboard. "Shall we start from the beginning with this case? Or would you prefer if I -"

_Beep Beep!_

Cameron and Foreman's pagers exploded with noise, and both dug into their pockets desperately, glancing at the small screens.

"Patient's coding." Foreman stated, both of them sprinting out of the room towards the patient at top speed, desperate to keep their patient alive.

"What was that about him not dying?" House yelled into the corridor after his disappearing employees. "Oh, and find Chase!"

* * *

"Where's the attractive one?" House grinned as he strolled into the laboratory, leaning over Cameron's shoulder to examine the test results half heartedly on the screen. "Its after lunch, I need the little rat helping me now."

"His presentation most likely overran." Cameron stated, never looking away from the computer. "He's definitely in the hospital, his car was parked right next to mine when I came in this morning." Clicking the 'print' icon, Cameron stood, heading over to the printer to pick up the results. "Me and Foreman can keep him alive until golden boy comes back, you know."

"Given that he's already coded once today, I seriously doubt that." House growled, ripping the test results out of her hands and examining them. "Go down to the conference room and drag him up here kicking and screaming."

"Just because they won't let you down there doesn't mean I'm going to do your dirty work for you." Cameron replied, smiling at House's discontented look. "We managed to stabilise the patient, and his condition seems to be improving, but he continues to have small bouts where he gets worse. He's unconcious and we've given him an OPA to ensure he keeps breathing."

"Taken him off the meds?" House checked, glancing at the print outs once more. "Negative for everything. Fantastic."

"Of course. We gave him morphine for the pain, but any other drugs while he's this weak might trash his body." Cameron frowned, taking the test results from House and heading over to the microscopes, placing a slide of blood in the machine. "I'll run some more tests, in the mean time why don't you go do something more productive than trying to make me find Chase, like annoying Wilson or getting lunch?"

"I'll consider it." House replied, popping a vicodin tablet into his mouth. "If you see Chase, send him to my office and tell him to start writing lines. 'I will not piss off my boss by booking irrelevant presentations'."

"Will do." Cameron replied drily, glancing into the lens as House left, cane clicking against the wooden floors.

_

* * *

_

"House!" Cuddy called through the atrium, stomping towards House with fury plastered over her face. "What on earth is Chase playing at? There were important doctors in that conference room, and he disgraced this entire hospital with his behaviour. Don't even try and pretend you didn't have something to do with it! What, did you trap him in the conference room, lock him in a janitor's closet?"

"Cuddy." House frowned, balancing his hands on his cane as he tilted his head, solely interested by the mention of his missing employee.

"I can't believe you didn't let him attend the conference! Was this your idea or his? I'm assuming it was yours, since Chase is hardly one to commit professional suicide." Cuddy hissed, ignoring the momentary shock that flashed across House's face.

"Chase didn't turn up for his conference?" House asked, brow knitting in confusion. "Chase didn't turn up for his conference..."

"Where is he? Where have you trapped him, if he decides to sue you, don't assume you'll be getting the hospital's backing!" House ignored Cuddy, stomping up to Wilson's office at break-neck speed. "House!" She stormed after him, stopping him at the entrance. "What on earth is going on?"

"I didn't prevent Chase from doing that presentation. And he wouldn't not go by choice." House replied, resting against the door for a moment.

"So, you think he's ill or incapacitated." Cuddy sighed, placing her hands on her hips tiredly as she looked up at her employee, frustrated by the lack of direct statements.

"Something like that." House mumbled, sliding into Wilson's office partially as Cuddy started speaking once more.

"Find out what's wrong with him and keep me informed. Oh, and tell him that if he can't come to a presentation, he needs to phone in advance!" She yelled through the closing door, sighing before walking back towards her office.

Entering rapidly, House glanced at Wilson, who sat in the middle of the room with a teary patient.

"House!" Wilson frowned from the settee, standing up to place himself in between the patient and the misanthrope. "What the hell are you doing in here, I've got a patient." He hissed, watching his young patient take another tissue from the box.

"Chase is missing." Wilson sighed, dismissing the patient as quickly and sensitively as possible before returning to his desk, telling his secretary to cancel his next few meetings so he could deal with House.

"House. You need to get over this fear of Chase disappearing. His presentation has probably overran. He'll be down to suggest Sarcoidosis and Lupus before you know it." Wilson soothed, crossing his arms. "Have you addressed why you're so fearful of him disappearing? Could it be that you actually care about another human being's safety?"

"He never turned up for his presentation." House slammed his fists onto the table, eyes dragged tight in annoyance. "Cuddy just cut me a new one for letting him skip." Walking to the window, he was surprised to see the black saloon car still parked against the sidewalk. "This isn't some irrational fear. This is me not wanting to have to undergo 1000s of hours of Cuddy trying to convince me to hire someone else if he doesn't come back."

"Maybe he's ill and took a sick day?" Wilson suggested optimistically, leaning against the windowsill to examine his friend.

"He hasn't taken a single sick day since he started working for me." House stated, drumming his hand against his cane. "And Cameron said his car was in the parking lot this morning."

"Maybe he is in one of the ICUs? If his car's here, that means either he is in the hospital or he was abducted between parking and entering the building. Being taken in daylight in a busy car park is a bit of a long shot, House." Wilson replied sceptically.

"Or, he was abducted on Friday, and his car's been here over the weekend." House replied sarcastically, slightly annoyed by his friend's inability to put two and two together.

"Cameron and Foreman have spaces right next to Chase's, they would have noticed if he hadn't left as they were." Wilson exclaimed. He walked over to his desk, starting on his paperwork once more.

"Chase left after both of them on friday, neither of them would have thought anything of seeing his car still there." House shrugged, limping over to Wilson's sofa.

"Surely you left after him? You would have noticed?" Wilson looked up, eyebrows raised. "God, House, if he's been captured... How could you not check?"

"I was... distracted." House stated, dragging a hand across his hair frustratedly. "Not to mention, it was a virtual blizzard and pitch black, no one would have seen someone grab him."

"Distracted?" Wilson frowned, cocking his head in confusion. "You virtually stalk Chase for three days, then a small distraction stops you from checking whether his car was there?"

"He kissed me." House growled. "Chase, that is. Its the only reason I let him go in the first place."

"You blackmailed into kissing you for his freedom?" Wilson's eyebrows skyrocketed further, trying to prevent bursts of disbelieving laughter from bursting through his lips.

"No! He kissed me, and then ran away before I could get my wits about me again." Wilson went to speak, but was silenced by the look thrown by House. "This is all irrelevant. Chase is in deep crap, I need you to help me track him down, with some help from the other ducklings." Opening his phone, House dialed quickly. "Cameron, I need you to go to Chase's apartment and check the place out. Yes I know you're in clinic duty, and no I don't care. There's a copy of his house key is in the second draw down in my office. No, of course I don't have a copy of your house keys." House rolled his eyes at Wilson, popping some vicodin into his mouth and slamming the phone shut.

"I'll go find Foreman, tell him to see if there've been any John Does handed in at Princeton General that match Chase's description." Wilson stated, walking towards the door with a smile still playing lightly at his face. "Phone the police dept, see if he's over there. I'll be back in a few minutes and we can start searching the hospital grounds. No smooching any hospital staff in the mean time." Wilson grinned, jogging down the corridor quickly.

House frowned, staring at the car parked in the street once more, more confused than he had ever been in his life.

_

* * *

_

Shoving the key into the lock angrily, Cameron threw the door open in annoyance. _Bloody House! I don't even know what I'm meant to be looking for... _Stepping into the room, over the piled mail, she surveyed Chase's meagre flat. Leaning down to pick up the discarded mail, she frowned at the large quantity. _This has been building up for a week! Did House let him home over the weekend at all?_

"Chase?" She called into the apartment experimentally. "Are you in here? House asked me to come check out your apartment." Receiving no answer, Cameron frowned, and decided to approach the place as if Chase was a patient. Walking towards the fridge, it was obvious he hadn't been home since House's enforced stay at the hospital; the only items in the small fridge were jars and a few out of date food items. Chucking the ruined food into the dustbin, Cameron moved on, checking through his cupboards and shelves for anything suspicious. _Great. A pack of paracetamol and a some caffeine tablets. House will kill me if this is all I can come back with. _

Looking across to the small table where she placed Chase's letters, she contemplated the pros and cons of opening them. _There might be some letters from other hospitals in there, maybe that's why House wanted me to check this place out. _Cameron reasoned, grabbing the letters and walking through to Chase's bedroom, sitting on the hard bed. _If Chase has been offered another job, it's only right that I know._

Flicking through the corners lightly, one paper stood out. It was without envelope, free for anyone to read, and stained red. _Idiot must have got some tomato ketchup on it before posting. _Pulling at the corner of it, Cameron's frown deepened as she read the hastily scrawled words littering the page.

_**House. I have him. You can't. He's perfect. P.**_

"I have him. You can't." Cameron repeated to herself, dropping the paper onto the bed rapidly as she considered both the connotations of the note and what the red stain may be. "Oh, God. What the hell is going on?" She muttered, resuming her search of the bedroom for anything partially helpful at a significantly faster pace. There was no sign of struggle, no sign that Chase had even been near the apartment in the last week, yet whoever had Chase clearly knew where he lived, and above that, knew House. Scanning the bookshelf, she spotted a small address book, stood next to a telephone. Grabbing both, she went to sit down, jumping as a car beeped its horn on the road outside.

Flicking through the address book, the names and numbers of electricians, plumbers, internet providers and repairmen sat alongside those of waitresses (written on napkins and shoved between the pages) and family members. Sighing tiredly, Cameron realised that this P could be any of 50 people, and even if she was to find the right one, what would she say? _'Hi, I think you've taken my co-worker, may I please have him back?'_. Cameron shook her head, throwing the book off her lap and rising to her feet.

_*Click* _Cameron froze, eyes closing as she recognised the sound of a turning key. The sound of the front door falling heavily against the wall rang through the apartment soon after, and all breathing ceased, Cameron too fearful to make a sound. Glancing round the room helplessly, she edged over to the bathroom, confident that she was still hidden from view. Stepping into the bathtub behind the door, she lifted the shower curtain around her, careful not to let the rings clink together. _Oh God, I'm going to die. _She clutched the phone desperately, hoping she could get a clear aim at the man's temple before he got too close.

Sound resonated through the apartment, the enterer clearly not being careful in his trek through the flat. The smashing glasses and heavy thuds shook Cameron to the core, the sounds getting closer and closer . _Please let it be Chase. Please, Please God let it be Chase. _Cameron screwed her eyes shut, hearing a very non-Chase-like grunt through the door, before the bathroom door swung open ominously.

The mirror smashed. Cameron winced through her shakes, knowing that Chase would be pissed off when he returned to see the state of his apartment. _If he ever returns. _Footsteps stumbled around the small room, before freezing next to the bathtub. Heart pounding, Cameron raised the phone above her head with shaking hands, watching a bloodied hand latch onto the curtain.

The first few tears escaping from her eyes, the curtain was ripped from between them. Cameron's mouth gaped like a goldfish, before a scream tore its way out and all hell broke loose.

* * *

**R&R**


	5. Chapter 5

Cameron screamed as a bloodied man crushed her, eyes squeezed tight as she dropped the phone in fear. _He's killed Chase and now he's going to kill me._ Pushing against the body fiercely, she sobbed, blood seeping through her clothes. She prayed it wasn't her own, too pumped on adrenaline to feel the weight of his body or any injuries that she might have sustained.

She yelled for help, yelled rape, yelled the first words that flew through her mind as her attacker leered above her, frightening her more and more with his eerie silence. "Chase's blood!" She began crying as her fists pummelled his chest, trying desperately to get him away from her.

Slipping on the bath floor, Cameron hissed, scrambling round for anything that could be used as a weapon as she tried to get the blood away from her eyes. Knocking the taps on in her haste, icy cold water began to fill the bath. Hands searching desperately, she finally grabbed the shower nozzle, clearing her vision and turning to hit the attacker, spraying him with water in the meantime and ridding his face of blood.

"Chase?!" Cameron yelled over the heavy gushing of water, dropping the shower head immediately and climbing over to see her colleague. "Oh, God!" She screamed, slamming the water off and dragging Chase, drowned in water and blood, out of the bathtub, checking his vitals quickly and breathing thankfully when it became clear he was still alive, at least. Staring at what was left of her bloodied co-worker, she realised the crashes must have been due to his lack of coherence; he was nearly unconscious. She stared for a moment, motionless as the events caught up with her before everything caught up with her and the world resumed its previous pace.

"I've got to phone an ambulance..." She muttered, searching through her drenched coat for her phone. Pulling out the mobile, she shook it a few times, fruitlessly hoping it would work. Giving up, she looked into the bathtub, knowing immediately when she spotted the phone she had been wielding as a weapon in the tinged red water that it couldn't be repaired. Sighing, she glanced at Chase once more, kneeling next to him. "Chase! Chase, I need you to wake up." She shook him, double checking for a pulse. "Wake up right now, Robert, this is an emergency! Are there any telephones in your apartment other than the one in the bedroom?"

"Mshph." He groaned, rolling over onto his side and throwing up, before nodding lethargically.

"Great. I'm going to go grab the phone, don't move, okay?" He groaned again in response, and Cameron could have sworn it sounded like 'Don't mind me, I'll go run a bloody marathon'.

Scrambling through the apartment, Cameron found another phone in the living room, thankfully wireless. Grabbing it, she jabbed in House's number from memory, each dial tone seeming to take a lifetime. The second it lifted, she began talking, ignoring House entirely.

"I've-hic-found. Him." She choked, words stuck in her throat as she stared at the mess that was her co-worker once more. Tears began to pour from her eyes once more, and she couldn't prevent the guilty little voice in her mind that was so thankful she wasn't in Chase's place right now. "God, House! Why didn't you tell me we were dealing with... this? I could - oh god - they could have..."

"They didn't." House growled in response. "Forget about you right now, how's Chase?"

"He's in a bad state." She sniffed, balancing the phone on her shoulder so she could remove what was left of Chase's drenched, ripped shirt, swathing him in towels to get rid of the cold moisture. "He - I don't - might.... Not make it." Cameron whispered, hearing a dead silence on the other end of the line. "House-"

"What's wrong with him? What has the attacker done to him?" House rasped down the phone.

"There's so much blood..." Cameron whimpered in response, grabbing bedsheets, pillows and duvets to try and keep Chase as warm as possible, make him as comfortable as possible.

"Oh, bleeding! That really narrows it down!" Cameron heard a struggle down the phone, before the jagged tones of her boss were replaced by the more calming voice of Wilson.

"Cameron! Listen to me, you need to stop seeing him as Chase and start seeing him as a patient." Wilson stated breathlessly. "There's an ambulance heading over for you two now, but I need you to keep him alive until then, and the emergency crew need as much information as possible. I need you to diagnose him."

"Okay. Okay." Cameron breathed, looking at the man in front of her once more, removing some of the sheets. "Patient is barely conscious, irregular heartbeat. Breathing is erratic and laboured, and response to stimulus is limited. Patient has sustained one blow to the head. No cranial matter is leaking, but he might be concussed. The face is quite bruised also, left zygomatic and mandible bones appear broken. A number of scratches, lacerations and small burns cover his arms, with a large perforation on his abdomen. It doesn't look low enough to have perforated the stomach or the intestine, but the kidneys and liver are at risk. Large amounts of bruising." Cameron finished with a whisper, closing her eyes. "When will the ambulance be here?"

"In a moment, Cameron, just wait. Keep him safe." A low voice, wracked with emotion, whispered in reply. By the time Cameron had realised the voice on the phone belonged to House, the line went dead, leaving her to keep the patient alive.

* * *

No one in the emergency department came within 5 meters of House as he paced up and down the entry corridor, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Wilson stood to the side, making a succession of rapid phone calls to the police department, Foreman and the best surgeon he could think of at short notice.

"I know you don't understand why you had to collect the John Doe records in the first place, but now they're irrelevant, and that's all you need to know." Wilson sighed, placing a hand to his head tiredly. "Look, get back here. Chase, House and Cameron are all MIA, so you need to look after your patient. I will explain the situation in detail when you get here. No, House hasn't overdosed." Wilson whispered the last sentence, watching House pop what must have been his 15th vicodin in as many minutes. "Though if he keeps taking them at this rate, he will soon. I've got to go, thanks, Foreman."

"House!" Wilson winced as Cuddy marched towards his friend, hands rooted to her hips in annoyance. "What on earth are you doing down here? Your patient keeps coding, and you're entire team has disappeared! If this man dies because of your negligence -"

"Lisa." Wilson interrupted, well aware that House was about to blow a fuse. "There's been an accident involving Chase, and the rest of House's team are heavily emotionally involved. Transfer their patient to ICU for now, and they'll treat him just as soon as Chase is back on his feet."

"What happened, is he alright?" Cuddy frowned, looking over to where House had resumed his pacing. "Did House do something?" Cuddy whispered, glancing back at Wilson. "Do I need to worry about an assault case, or do you think -"

"House wasn't involved, not this time at least. He was attacked away from the hospital, Cameron is with him at his apartment at the moment. An ambulance was sent to themabout ten minutes ago. Foreman doesn't know what's going on yet, and Cameron's getting overly emotional and attached. As for House, if Chase is alright, he'll be alright." Wilson sighed, leaning against the wall. "For any other team, I'd suggest you book them sessions with therapists to help with any post traumatic issues, but with House's team..."

"It'd be like trying to repair a dam with a child's plaster." Cuddy finished, shoulders dropping with a sigh. "I'll transfer the patient over to ICU, but he can only stay there for so long. Try and get one of them to at least try and look after him."

"I've already asked Foreman to come back here and see to him." Wilson nodded. Suddenly, the doorway erupted with noise, the emergency cart containing Chase streaming through the double doors in a bubble of sound. House sprang into action, yelling various instructions to the staff in his usual authoritative bark. Wilson frowned, examining the tension in his friend's shoulders and walking over, grabbing him and pulling him away from the foray. "House, it's Chase on that gully. You can't be in there, he's one of your employees."

"I've treated Foreman before." House huffed, trying to work past Wilson's barricade. "I can't let those dunces look after him alone!"

"Chase isn't Foreman." Wilson stated quietly, placing his hands on House's shoulders. "And the doctors in there are the some of the best in Princeton. Come on, you can wait in the family room like every other family member or friend." Wilson finished, throwing his arm across House's shoulders and leading him towards the waiting area.

"I'm not family nor a friend." House grumbled, letting Wilson lead him away quietly. Cuddy followed, with a shaking, blood soaked Cameron in tow, eyes glaring at House through the shakes.

"Perhaps not." Wilson agreed, forcing House into a chair before turning to glance at Cameron. "Are you alright, Dr Cameron?" Wilson asked politely, relieving a very confused Dr Cuddy of her soothing duties to go and resume her hospital tasks.

"I'm fine." She sniffed, dragging the hospital towel tighter around her body. "However, I'd appreciate it if someone could tell me what on Earth is going on!" Cameron exclaimed. With red-rimmed eyes, she looked between House and Wilson, noting House's usually closed face open as a book, spread with guilt, and Wilson's worried expression. "The man who attacked Chase left a note. He clearly knew you, House. What did you do to him?" Searching through her pockets, she pulled out the paper, slightly damp from resting against her cold clothes for the journey, though still legible.

"_**House. I have him. You can't. He's perfect. P." **_Cameron repeated, getting more hysterical with every syllable. She threw the note towards House, pointing her finger accusingly. "He knew you! The man, the beast that attacked Chase, knew you! And you did nothing!"

"Cameron, please..."

"No! Who did this? You forget to pay a drug dealer and make a deal of Chase as payment?" Cameron hissed, staring at House in annoyance.

"Cameron! You're not helping anyone. Why don't you go home, take a little while to calm down and get yourself cleaned up?" WIlson suggested calmly, forcing his way between Cameron and House.

"How can I go home, when Chase is lying through those double doors being torn into pieces and glued back together again?" Cameron sniffed, on the verge of tears once more as the emotions overwhelmed her.

"You never cared about him before." A voice from the doorway stated. The room's occupants turned to see Foreman leaning against the frame, eyebrows raised. "Someone care to tell me why Cameron's covered in what I assume is Chase's blood? The friendly competition finally get too much for you?"

"Oh, you're one to lecture about not caring about Chase." Cameron scoffed, crossing her arms as anger replaced her earlier fear.

"I'm not in here sobbing about how I can't sleep out of fear he'll die." Foreman frowned, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "I at least go to bars with him occasionally; you just dragged him into your dragon's lair and spat him back out when you were done."

"It wasn't like that!" Cameron insisted, voice hitching as she smoothed a tear away from her eye.

"Right." Foreman muttered, ignoring the annoyed look thrown at him by Wilson. "Our patient's stable. One of the ICU nurses had heard about the 'pretty blond doctor' falling ill, and offered to keep him stable overnight, but we will need to get back to diagnosing him as soon as possible."

"That's fine." Wilson nodded, throwing a worried glance at the oddly silent man beside him.

"So, what exactly did happen to Chase?" Cameron asked once more, sitting in one of the cold metal chairs.

"We'll have to wait for the police report to find out for sure, but I think its fair to assume that he was attacked." Wilson replied calmly.

"I wasn't asking you." Cameron retorted snarkily, crossing her arms and glaring at House. "He obviously knows, and given that I risked my life to go find Chase I think I deserve to as well."

The room fell silent, waiting for House's response. However, the man sat stoic, eyes boring holes into the floor with a manic resolve. Cameron went to speak once more, perhaps further riling the man, but Foreman cut her off, standing up to make himself known.

"Leave it alone, Cameron." He stated, glancing at his boss with confusion. "Why don't you go and clean yourself up, there's nothing that can be done to help Chase yet so you might as well get clean." Ushering her towards the door, he glanced over to Wilson, mouthing 'make him talk' quite clearly to the oncologist as he shut the glass door behind him.

Wilson stood up, picking the discarded note up off the floor to read it again for himself. "What does he mean 'I have him' when he's clearly given Chase back?" Wilson asked quietly, sitting down cautiously next to House.

"You really think he's given back Chase?" House laughed drily, mouth drawn tight. "He may have given back the physical Chase, but he's technically taken the old Chase away forever. He'll never be the same person after this."

"True." Wilson stated, the room filling with silence once more for a few moments. "That doesn't mean he'll change completely, you know." Wilson stayed quiet for another moment, glancing to the ceiling as if asking the Gods for help. "It doesn't mean he won't want to kiss you again." Wilson stated quickly, as casually as possible.

"I'm not calculating how I can bed the Australian." House smirked quietly, glancing at the flecks of Chase's blood smattering his hands. "I would like him in some sort of working condition, though. Broken wombats aren't good for anything, and I'm not going to keep him just to have a pretty face in my team."

"Hopefully, you wont have to worry too much about that." Wilson stated optimistically, watching as a man in scrubs entered the room. "Any news?"

"We've set all the broken bones. He's in surgery, his left kidney was damaged beyond repair. His other kidney seems fine, so we shouldn't have to worry about renal failure, but the damage to his liver is a bit more worrying." The doctor frowned, passing Chase's chart over to House. "He should be out of surgery in about 5 hours."

"Five hours?" Wilson frowned, checking the chart anxiously. "This sort of surgery shouldn't take longer than two! Are there any other injuries we should be aware of?" The attending squirmed, looking anywhere but House.

"Unfortunately, there's been a seven car pile up on the main road, so all of the experienced surgeons are tied up. One of the students is qualified to remove the kidney, but we don't want to risk more damage by attempting to fix the liver, and there's no point closing him up when we could just wait for a surgeon to come free."

"And here they tell me doctors are smart!" House shouted exasperatedly, throwing his hands into the air. "The patient has excessive bleeding and an erratic heartbeat. Leaving him open to the world would make him bleed out in a matter of minutes. Did you ever bother going to medical school, or did you just buy your degree off the internet?" The student gaped, unsure of what to say. "If you want something done well round here, you've got to do it yourself." House grumbled, limping towards the door rapidly.

"You're going to remove Chase's kidney and fix his liver alone?" Wilson jogged after House, the nervous student following behind.

"Of course not." House stated sarcastically, resting against the door of the surgery ward. "You're going to help me. Go get scrubbed up, and find Foreman. We got ourselves a wombat to dissect!" He grinned tiredly, a small part of the House of old coming to the surface, before he pushed through the swinging doors to leave an exasperated Wilson, left wondering about the quality of company he kept.

* * *

**Not so big a cliffy this time! Ha, the reviews for the last two chapters were amusing, every single one of them said something along the lines of 'you evil evil lady, why did you leave it there?' mwahahaha**

**Sorry if anyone didn't like how I wrote Cameron, that was just how she came out in my mind. I actually quite like her usually.  
**

**Oh. someone asked how long this was going to be. the quick answer is 10 chapters, but I have an idea for a sequel that I might just incorporate into the same story, so possibly longer. most likely just 10 chapters though. :)**

**REVIEW!  
**

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	6. Chapter 6

Cameron stood in the viewing port, pacing anxiously as she watched Foreman, House and Wilson operate on Chase. Cuddy sat alongside her, mumbling under her breath about hospital policies; _'...not allowed to work on your own employees, they say, then damn House just strolls in and...'_

Cameron sighed, crossing her arms anxiously. House had refused her entry to the OR as he thought she'd "get all weepy and cry into the open wound", so she was forced to watch as House, Foreman, Wilson and a few attendings got to work. She'd gnawed at her fingernails whilst they operated, come near tears when Chase had gone into cardiac arrest, and frowned at Cuddy when she'd made sarcastic comments through the intercom. She had no idea why Cuddy was there._ Probably so she can yell at House at the first available opportunity... _Cameron frowned, walking over to the intercom. "How's it going?"

"We're closing up." Foreman announced, throwing a quick thumbs up to the gallery as they checked Chase's vitals once more. Cuddy sighed, placing a tired hand to her forehead before walking over to the intercom herself.

"Don't let the post op team take him to the usual rooms, one of the nicer rooms is free for his use. Tell the nurses to take him to 403A. House, my office as soon as you close up." Cuddy stated, strolling down the stairs toward her office. Cameron followed her out, running to the cafeteria to get the tired surgeons some much needed coffee for when they finished.

House paced round the OR anxiously, watching Wilson stitch his youngest duckling back together. He had been doing the same for most of the surgery; only stepping in to work on Chase's injuries for the important bits, whilst barking orders and braying sarcastically whenever one of the smaller parts of the surgery was occurring. "Are you trying to make him look like a rag doll? Straighten that wound up, I don't want a scar left on his body."

"Fine then." Wilson stated, holding out the apparatus sarcastically, safe in the knowledge House didn't enjoy such mediocre tasks. "You stitch him up."

"Maybe I will." House smirked, taking the apparatus off the gaping Wilson. Working slowly but accurately, House grinned as he finished the stitches, satisfied with his work.

"Tidy." Foreman stated, nodding to the anesthesiologist. "We're done here, ask the nurses to move him to 403A, please." The woman left, striding out the door to find a team to move him. "Next few hours are crucial, if he goes into cardiac arrest again..."

"He won't." House stated solemnly, washing his hands. "Not if he knows what's good for him."

"Right." Wilson sighed, moving over to the sink also as three nurses came in to take Chase to his designated room. "I'll find some people to clean up the OR, you two go up with Chase, he needs you two. Oh, and House, don't forget to go and see Cuddy!"

"Yes, appeasing the whims of the she-devil is truly the most important thing right now." House scoffed, walking behind the gulley. "Make sure my other, presumably less attractive, patient is still being kept alive by the nurses."

"Will do." Wilson sighed, watching House and Foreman leave with Chase, doors clicking to a close as they left.

* * *

Two days passed rapidly, nurses keeping their patient alive as they focussed on Chase, Foreman and Cameron taking overlapping shifts with him whilst House sat in the corner of the room, watching General Hospital on the wide screen TV whilst checking Chase out of the corner of his eye.

Not that he cared, of course. Oh no. He just didn't want to interview for another intensivist.

"Vitals are normal." Foreman stated as he, House and Cameron sat around Chase's bed, each nursing a large cup of coffee as they watched the unconscious man. An untouched book lay in Cameron's lap, whilst House was absorbed by his gameboy advanced. Neither Cameron nor Foreman knew what was going on, or why Chase was in this position; House had taken to telling them more and more outrageous stories every time they asked.

"Its been two days since the surgery, though, he should be awake by now, especially since he's not comatose." Cameron frowned, scratching her head tiredly. The appearance of a hospital benefactor meant Chase had been moved out of the nice room, into one of the basic facilities; a fact House bemoaned as the new room was without Cable, leaving him without his General Hospital.

"So long as he's awake by tomorrow, everything should be fine." Foreman stated, taking a deep gulp of his coffee. The door opened, prompting all three conscious occupants in the room to look towards Cuddy, whose angry appearance told a story of its own.

"I really don't think an unconscious patient requires the attention of 3 doctors." Cuddy stated in frustration, pacing around the room. "I understand that Dr Chase is slightly more than a patient to you three, but enough is enough. You have another patient to treat, one which is currently being kept alive by nurses. He's been in your care for 7 days now, and no diagnosis! This is insane, House. Only one person in with Chase at a time during working hours from here on in. The other two can do whatever they like; clinic duty, helping out in NICU or ICU, hell, maybe even diagnosing your patient. But I can't lose all 3 of you to grief over Chase's condition."

House sighed, finally looking up from his gameboy. "Cameron, Foreman, go and diagnose Mr Sniffly." Both Cameron and Foreman frowned confusedly. "You know, our patient." He scoffed, rolling his eyes at them.

"Our patient's symptoms are Amnesia, elevated heart rate, and a compromised immune system, no sniffles." Foreman stated, standing up to leave.

"Good to see you've been paying attention." House snarled, twirling his cane. "Though you forgot lividity of the extremities, vomiting, and tenderness around the eye area, not to mention the fact that his symptoms are fluctuating. C-, Foreman, must try harder." Foreman rolled his eyes, walking out the door. Cameron followed, asking House to page her if Chase got worse.

Cuddy remained for a moment, smirking at House who had returned to his gameboy, occasionally glancing at Chase. "You know, House, if you keep looking after Chase like this, someone might think you actually give a damn."

"And if you keep wearing such low cut blouses, someone might actually mistake you for a hooker." House replied, not looking up from his gameboy.

"I'd forgotten how charming you can be, Dr House." Cuddy smiled tiredly, walking towards the door once more.

"Its hard to remember when you have the memory of..." House trailed off, brow furrowing. Cuddy stood, waiting, as his lips ran over words languidly, before he pushed himself out of the chair forcefully and, as fast as his leg would let him, exited the room, handing his gameboy and Chase's file to Cuddy.

"House!" She yelled towards his retreating figure, sighing as he ignored her. Looking at the chart momentarily, she walked in, occupying the chair nearest Chase as she fruitlessly tried to work out what House had deduced.

* * *

**Short update! Next chapter's the big'un... So, House has worked something out, but what? Can anyone guess? There is a big clue in this chapter :) Lots of reviews, please; if we can keep up with about 10 reviews per chapter, this story will get 100 reviews! yaaaaay**


	7. Chapter 7

Cameron sat at the conference table nursing a mug of coffee as she stared at the diagnostic white board, brow furrowed as she tried to place the symptoms together in her mind. Sighing fruitlessly, she bit her lip, wondering what on earth could be happening inside that man's body.

"Any epiphanies?" Cameron jumped as Foreman spoke, oblivious to his entrance into the room. She shook her head, waving towards the whiteboard.

"Its nothing. There is no disease that could be responsible for all these symptoms, and Chase was right, the chances of a patient having multiple diseases is relatively low, even with the damaged immune system." Cameron finished, watching Foreman walk over to the unopened chart on the table. "There's been no change in his status, there's no need to check the chart. The nurses haven't given him anything different and his illness is still fluctuating."

"Never hurts to check." Foreman shrugged, walking over to the white board, pen in hand to tick off the symptoms and add anything. "So we have Amnesia, elevated heart rate, compromised immune system, lividity of the extremities, vomiting, and tenderness around..." Foreman frowned, eyes focussed on the chart in hand as his hand dropped away from the whiteboard.

"What?" Cameron asked, standing up to look over his shoulder at the open chart.

"That's odd." Foreman stated, looking at the chart contemplatively. "Our patient disappeared over the weekend."

"Probably just went to the cafe for a cup of coffee or something. Why is this important?" Cameron asked, hands resting on her hips.

"No, he disappeared for the entire weekend, after I checked on him at 7 on Friday. Came back last thing on sunday night, saying he'd been attending to some business. I wrote an angry note to one of the nurses about not reporting on him over the weekend, and they've noted that there was nothing to record as he left AMA." Foreman frowned, looking at the nurse's report. "Returned exhibiting more intense symptoms, but the majority of these died away in the first 3 hours."

"Maybe it's environmental, then. He might have gone back to his house and come into contact with the same mould or fungi."

"Or maybe he did this on purpose." House interrupted from the doorway, limping in slowly. "Put the pen down slowly, Foreman. You're back on the bench." Foreman rolled his eyes, placing the marker pen on the table as he slid into one of the chairs.

"What are you doing in here, I thought you were staying with Chase?" Cameron asked worriedly, frowning at the doctor.

"The hibernating wombat's been put in a room without cable. Was going to go and find a room in which I could watch General Hospital, but it appears I'll have to diagnose for you two instead." He smirked, walking over to the whiteboard and rubbing off 'weak immune system' and 'amnesia'. "Ignore the previous illnesses and memory loss. What are you left with?"

Cameron frowned, looking at the whiteboard once more. "Arsenic poisoning." Her voice was laced with question, and Foreman shook his head, sighing.

"Bing bing bing! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" House clapped sarcastically, scribbling 'arsenic' across the top of the board. "And yet again I'm left wondering why I hired you two. The blond one suggested this to me days ago..."

"So you're saying the previous illnesses and memory loss were just a coincidence?" Foreman frowned. "You can't just exclude any symptom to make your job easier."

"No, I'm saying the previous illnesses and memory loss weren't symptoms to begin with." House retorted, balancing his cane against the edge of a chair. "How did we know he had a number of illnesses during the last 6 months? Its not on his record as he never went to the doctors for any of the illnesses."

"He told one of the nurses." Cameron replied, brow creasing. "Why-"

"So, you mean to tell me that a man with such intense retrograde amnesia that he has troubles remembering his own name, his first car, or what he had for lunch can reel off the numerous colds and coughs that he's been subjected to in the last 6 months?" Cameron and Foreman fell silent, Cameron's mouth forming a small 'o' as she considered the implications of this revelation.

"But, why?" Cameron asked, frowning deeply as she too slid into a chair. "I understand that you're implying that he might have been trying to overdose on arsenic, but -"

"I don't think he was trying to overdose on arsenic." House muttered, dragging a hand over his face angrily as he paced around the room, cane slamming on the floor harshly. "We never administered the antidote, so he would have neither gotten better in order to go home, nor significantly worse after his return, followed by an improvement. I smell a rat."

"You think he gave himself arsenic and the antidote." Foreman laughed, brow knotted in confusion. "Why, because the voices in his head told him to do so? He's shown none of the other symptoms of Munchausens, and no psychosis for any mental disorders. How would he even know what the antidote is unless he was -"

"A doctor." House growled, teeth grinding together. "And only a doctor would know to mention two symptoms that didn't match to throw us a curve ball; memory loss and previous illnesses. We couldn't diagnose him because he didn't want to be diagnosed."

"House, that's insane." Cameron stated, brow knitted together tightly as she considered the implications of his statement.

"Its so insane it just might work!" House replied mockingly, slamming his cane down on the table as everything clicked. "What did the patient look like?"

"About six foot, forty, brown hair, missing a finger, with a tattoo of-"

"-Oklahoma on his arm?" House asked harshly, pushing away from the table as Cameron nodded, confused. "What room is the patient in?"

"House, are you going -"

"I said, what room is the patient in?"

"Room 32A."

"Next to Chase's new room." House muttered, hobbling rapidly to the door. "Get upstairs now! All of you! I want you either in protecting Chase or holding down the patient as soon as possible, go!"

"Why would we need to protect Chase?" Foreman frowned, stomping after House at considerable speed as the team piled into the elevator.

"Because we left the cat next to the mouse, and the door's open." House growled, elevator doors shutting with a harsh click.

* * *

**Come on now, how many of you saw that coming? :) I'm going away for the weekend; the best ever coming home present would be lots of reviews! Let me know what you thought of this... (btw, the whole 'yes I've been susceptible to colds, coughs and flu for the last 6 months, no i don't remember my name' thing was originally a mistake from me, but in the end I realised it worked well with the story...) LOVE Regg xx**


	8. Chapter 8

House moved out of the elevator faster than Cameron or Foreman had ever seen him move before, virtually sprinting to the room where Chase slept. Upon entering, he halted sharply, both Cameron and Foreman stopping slightly behind him.

"What the hell is our patient doing in here?" Foreman shouted, moving towards the bed to guide the man he assumed lost back to his own room, but Cameron stopped him.

"Look at his hand..." Her voice shook as Foreman followed her eyeline, spotting the syringe in their patient's hands.

"Ah, Greg." The man smiled casually, yellow teeth glinting under the sterile light. "Nice to see you visit one of your patients, at least. Though I suppose I should be thanking my lucky stars that you stayed away from me!" The man laughed, as if talking to a close friend, wiping away a tear of mirth. "Ah, some things never change. Seeing patients always was far too routine for you, wasn't it?" Waving his hand in the air, Pratchett smiled. "Look at me, getting all sentimental. Anyway, I hope you don't mind if I ask you to get rid of your two little shadows, their presence is making me feel... hmm... the need to pump seven times the average does of Heparin into someone's system just to see what happens?"

"Get some protamine sulfate ready." House whispered to Cameron.

"Seven doses is enough to kill him before we can even administer the first unit, especially in his weakened state." Foreman hissed, grabbing House's arm.

"Listen to the black guy!" Pratchett called out, pointing to Foreman with the needle. "You and I both know pretty-boy will be long gone before you get any of the antidote in him." House looked at his old friend, and the needle he was waving about so carelessly, and nodded at two of his ducklings to leave.

"But-" Cameron started, before Foreman dragged her forcefully from the room.

"So." House started, moving round the bed to stand across from Pratchett, Chase between the two men. "Still seeing that burly prison guard? I hear you were a nice piece of ass."

"Ah, we ended our affair several months ago, when I left my prison cell."

"Slightly earlier than expected." House stated, glancing at Chase briefly to ensure he was still unconscious.

"Its amazing how money can buy you freedom." Pratchett stated, spinning the syringe languidly between his fingers. House looked at the tube interestedly, before examining the face before him intensely.

"How's this going to work then?" House started, sitting in the chair aside Chase's bed and playing with his cane in much the same way the man opposite him played with the syringe. "Both you and I know you won't kill him. Not with that, anyway." House smirked, tapping his cane on the floor. "You don't have the guts."

"Oh, Greg." Pratchett smirked, perching on the bed beside Chase. "You know, if you looked up 'arrogance' in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of you there."

"You had to look up 'arrogance' in the dictionary?" House leant forward in his chair, raising a worn eyebrow amusedly. "And my dictionary doesn't have pictures, moron."

Pratchett's face hardened momentarily, before he looked down at the unconscious man between them. "He's a beautiful specimen, isn't he?"

"He's a fine piece of ass, if that's what you mean." House scoffed, picking up his gameboy from where it rested on the side and turning it on. "Can bribe the nurses into anything with an ass like that."

"And what about you, Greg? What do you think about him?" Pratchett continued, raising his brow at the doctor.

"Do I think he has a fine ass? Well, 40 nurses can't be wrong about something as important as that..." House stated calmly, looking at Pratchett for a moment.

"Do you like him?" Pratchett pressed, tucking some hair behind Chase's ear.

"He has hair to _die _for." House rolled his eyes, waving a hand at Chase. "Oh and his _eyes_, oh, his _eyes, _they give me _butterflies_."

"You don't care about him?" Pratchett asked, brow raised.

"Not one damn bit. He's just a partially talented intensivist, and you know how those things are hard to find." House stated, waving his game boy at Pratchett. "I'll never tire of Super Mario." He stated, settling into the game.

"Oh, well in that case, you wont mind if I just..." Pratchett trailed off, letting the needle rest upon Chase's arm, the tip slightly breaking skin.

"You might cause an international feud, the British can get rather protective of their spawn." House shrugged, not looking up from his Game Boy.

"You really don't care." Pratchett muttered to himself. "Well, in that case, I guess there's no point keeping him around then." And with that, Pratchett pressed down on the plunger, forcing the liquid into Chase's system.

"Crikey!" House exclaimed, eyes never leaving his gameboy as he put on a faux Australian accent. "Skippy's gonna go and croak on us. Better get the digeridoo out and call Steve Irwin, see if he can't strap the poor blighter up."

Pratchett stared, looking between the unconscious man on the bed and the uncaring man in the chair. "You really are a cold hearted bastard, House."

"I might have been slightly more concerned were it not for the fact the liquid was not viscous, the wrong colour for Heparin, and altogether far too water-like for it to be anything other than water or saline."House mocked, putting his gameboy aside and leaning over the bed. "Did you really think I'd be to consumed with fear to see the difference between water and Heparin?"

Pratchett laughed calmly. "Oh, Greg, I'd forgotten just how observant a man like you can be." He pulled the syringe out of the unconscious man's arm, and grabbed another from his pocket. "Can you see what's in this one, Greg?"

"You see, that's what Heparin looks like." House stated, looking deep into the other man's eyes. "You don't want to do this. You can stop this now, before it gets out of hand, like last time."

"No, House, _you _can stop it. Do you care for him enough to admit to it when his life's on the line?" Pratchett asked, waving the syringe just out of reach. House stood, slapping his hands on the metal bar of the bed.

"Dammit, what difference does it make if I care for him or not?" House exclaimed, running a hand across his cropped hair angrily.

"Well, it could be the difference between life and death." Pratchett stated, waving the syringe near Chase's arm.

"Fine. I care." House huffed, looking at Chase tiredly. "For the unconscious bastard, not for you."

"How much?" Pratchett pressed. House stayed silent, before a tut from Pratchett and the nearing of the needle broke his revere.

"Too much." House stated, looking deeply into the eyes of Pratchett.

"Good." Pratchett smiled maliciously, syringe nearing Chase's arm rapidly. "In that case, I'll enjoy this all the more."

* * *

**MUHAHAHA. I'm trying to OD you lot on cliffhangers.**

**Big, big apology for not updating this for so long. Long story short, I've moved abroad, and House isn't televised over here, so I haven't been able to watch it in a while, and wasn't sure if I could do the characters justice and write them well. Any advice, therefore, is welcomed, I've tried (and I think failed a bit) to keep them all IC.**

**2 chapters left, and the final chapter is already written, so the next two updates should hopefully be faster. **


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